Sapp's on-field skills are worthy

Published: Sunday, January 13, 2013 at 7:28 p.m.

Last Modified: Sunday, January 13, 2013 at 7:28 p.m.

Ask me about Warren Sapp, the football player. The Tampa Bay Buc football player.

Go ahead. Ask. From the very beginning, I witnessed it all.

He signed just five days after being drafted in 1995, having dropped to the 12th overall pick following rumors of failed drug tests at the University of Miami.

Five days. Even then, Sapp was muy rapido.

“I’m not afraid of anybody,’’ he said after signing. “I’m ready to play ball.’’

Sapp wasn’t lying. He got a sack in his first game, a 21-6 victory over the Eagles at the old Vet, and soon, the buzz spread around the league about this converted tight end.

He was fast enough to dominate one-on-one battles, fast and strong enough to split double teams. Sapp could explode into the backfield, chase and capture the quarterback, or pursue in both directions along the line of scrimmage.

A tackle could do some of the things Sapp did. A defensive end could do some of the things Sapp did. But here was one player doing it all.

It was new and freakish and it keyed a rise of the Bucs’ defense to national prominence. With Sapp anchoring the line and Derrick Brooks the linebackers and John Lynch the secondary, Tampa Bay became the place where opposing offenses perished.

His career apex with the Bucs came in 1999. Sapp’s knowledge of the game caught up to his skills in such a fearsome combo that he was named the NFL’s Defensive Player of the Year.

He followed his 12.5-sack season with a career-high 16.5 in 2000, but age and weight soon began pushing back. By the time of the Bucs’ Super Bowl win in 2003, Sapp’s career was in decline.

During the four seasons I covered him, Sapp never embarrassed me in the Bucs’ locker. Perhaps the recognition factor spared me the furrowed brow and accompanying verbal disdain.

But I was present for some of it. On one occasion, Sapp jumped a young reporter for failing to ask a question during a brief Q&A, relying instead on queries posed by others.

Among other things, Sapp called the poor kid a “mooch.’’ I just remember his scared facial expression and how Sapp instigated the entirely avoidable encounter.

He was sweet and cordial — i.e., fraudulent — with the major media, the people who could spread a favorable image of him nationally. But to those those who saw Sapp on a daily basis, we knew better.

Mostly, it was the stories we heard about Sapp out in the community. In many instances, fans who approached him for an autograph and/or brief chat left with an entirely different opinion of No. 99.

A negative one. On the field, Sapp blind-sided Green Bay’s Chad Clifton, then gloated about it afterward. On the field, Sapp intentionally ran into a referee, incurred a $50,000 fine, then called the league’s method of fines “a slave system.’’

Ask me about Warren Sapp, the potential Hall of Famer. I’d say the latter has nothing to do with the former.

The Hall has no morals clause. If Paul Hornung can get in, if Lawrence Taylor can get in, if O.J. Simpson can remain in, there’s a place for Sapp.

His numbers would seem to suggest it. Sapp’s 96.5 career sacks rank 34th on the NFL all-time list. The only other comparable defensive tackle, John Randle, collected 137.5 sacks and made the Hall in 2010.

A maximum of five modern-era nominees can be elected when the class is revealed Feb. 2. Sapp’s in with some tough company — Michael Strahan, Jonathan Ogden, Larry Allen, Will Shields, Charles Haley, Jerome Bettis, Cris Carter, Ed DeBartolo and Art Modell are among those in the running.

If not this time, Sapp will get in eventually. And besides, good guy Buc Lee Roy Selmon’s already there.

<p>SARASOTA</p><p>Ask me about Warren Sapp, the football player. The Tampa Bay Buc football player.</p><p>Go ahead. Ask. From the very beginning, I witnessed it all.</p><p>He signed just five days after being drafted in 1995, having dropped to the 12th overall pick following rumors of failed drug tests at the University of Miami.</p><p>Five days. Even then, Sapp was muy rapido.</p><p>“I'm not afraid of anybody,'' he said after signing. “I'm ready to play ball.''</p><p>Sapp wasn't lying. He got a sack in his first game, a 21-6 victory over the Eagles at the old Vet, and soon, the buzz spread around the league about this converted tight end.</p><p>He was fast enough to dominate one-on-one battles, fast and strong enough to split double teams. Sapp could explode into the backfield, chase and capture the quarterback, or pursue in both directions along the line of scrimmage.</p><p>A tackle could do some of the things Sapp did. A defensive end could do some of the things Sapp did. But here was one player doing it all.</p><p>It was new and freakish and it keyed a rise of the Bucs' defense to national prominence. With Sapp anchoring the line and Derrick Brooks the linebackers and John Lynch the secondary, Tampa Bay became the place where opposing offenses perished.</p><p>His career apex with the Bucs came in 1999. Sapp's knowledge of the game caught up to his skills in such a fearsome combo that he was named the NFL's Defensive Player of the Year.</p><p>He followed his 12.5-sack season with a career-high 16.5 in 2000, but age and weight soon began pushing back. By the time of the Bucs' Super Bowl win in 2003, Sapp's career was in decline.</p><p>Ask me about Warren Sapp, the person. Just don't expect a Pro Bowl answer.</p><p>During the four seasons I covered him, Sapp never embarrassed me in the Bucs' locker. Perhaps the recognition factor spared me the furrowed brow and accompanying verbal disdain.</p><p>But I was present for some of it. On one occasion, Sapp jumped a young reporter for failing to ask a question during a brief Q&A, relying instead on queries posed by others.</p><p>Among other things, Sapp called the poor kid a “mooch.'' I just remember his scared facial expression and how Sapp instigated the entirely avoidable encounter.</p><p>He was sweet and cordial — i.e., fraudulent — with the major media, the people who could spread a favorable image of him nationally. But to those those who saw Sapp on a daily basis, we knew better.</p><p>Mostly, it was the stories we heard about Sapp out in the community. In many instances, fans who approached him for an autograph and/or brief chat left with an entirely different opinion of No. 99.</p><p>A negative one. On the field, Sapp blind-sided Green Bay's Chad Clifton, then gloated about it afterward. On the field, Sapp intentionally ran into a referee, incurred a $50,000 fine, then called the league's method of fines “a slave system.''</p><p>Ask me about Warren Sapp, the potential Hall of Famer. I'd say the latter has nothing to do with the former.</p><p>The Hall has no morals clause. If Paul Hornung can get in, if Lawrence Taylor can get in, if O.J. Simpson can remain in, there's a place for Sapp.</p><p>His numbers would seem to suggest it. Sapp's 96.5 career sacks rank 34th on the NFL all-time list. The only other comparable defensive tackle, John Randle, collected 137.5 sacks and made the Hall in 2010.</p><p>A maximum of five modern-era nominees can be elected when the class is revealed Feb. 2. Sapp's in with some tough company — Michael Strahan, Jonathan Ogden, Larry Allen, Will Shields, Charles Haley, Jerome Bettis, Cris Carter, Ed DeBartolo and Art Modell are among those in the running.</p><p>If not this time, Sapp will get in eventually. And besides, good guy Buc Lee Roy Selmon's already there.</p><p>The Hall needs the anti-Selmon for balance.</p>